


First Lady

by Westwinger23



Category: The West Wing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-26
Updated: 2019-03-26
Packaged: 2019-12-18 05:20:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18243179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Westwinger23/pseuds/Westwinger23
Summary: The rise of "Bartlet for America" and "The Bartlet Presidency" through Abigail Bartlet's eyes. While her husband is a natural politician, born for the presidency, Abbey just wanted to be a doctor. What happens when she is thrust into the public spotlight on a national level, and how will she cope with the changes to her family, friends, career, and life along the way?





	First Lady

It’s late. After midnight. And with the fall chill that has arrived in the past week, it feels even later and darker than it is. Abbey sighs contentedly, as she hears the gravel crunch beneath her tires. She can see the farmhouse in the distance, growing closer. She’s tired and her muscles ache, having ended her shift with an emergency eight-hour surgery. All she wanted was to take a long hot bath and go to bed. Or maybe Jed would be willing to give her a massage with those new oils he gave her…although she’s aware that his goals in giving her the oils were more selfish and definitely involved sex. And she’s much too exhausted for that tonight. Well, maybe she could be put in the right mood. 

Pulling up in the driveway, she notices the house is dark, which is odd since Jed always tries to wait up for her when she’s late coming home—at the very least, leaving every light in the house on while falling asleep in front of the television. 

Stepping carefully out of the car, she wraps her sweater tighter, cursing herself for not having worn a coat. Turning to retrieve her bag from the backseat, she hears a voice from the darkness saying, “It’s late.” Dropping her bag, and clutching her chest, she turns to see Jed sitting on the porch swing and staring out at her. 

“Honestly, Jed. You scared the life out of me.” She picks up her bag and walks up the steps. 

He sips from his steaming mug, “Sorry. Long night?”

Sitting beside him, she rolls her neck to try and relieve the tension. “Unbelievably. The surgery itself was more complicated than we hoped—and it was really touch and go for a while, but I’m confident that Mr. Harper will make it through the night.” 

She reaches out and motions for his drink. He offers it to her. Taking a sip, she wrinkles her brow and swallows quickly. “This isn’t decaf. Are you trying to keep yourself up all night?” 

Jed wraps his arm around her, briefly massaging her shoulder before stopping. He weighs his options back and forth, considering whether to tell her what’s on his mind. 

Putting the coffee down, Abbey turns toward him and smoothes his hair. “Jed, what’s wrong?” 

Jed sighs, “Well I was hoping to talk with you tonight, but you’re too tired. We can talk about it tomorrow.” He stands up, but Abbey grabs his arm and pulls him back down next to her. 

“Oh no you don’t. You can’t tease me like that. What’s on your mind? Are the girls ok? Work?” Her concern for him is touching, and causes Jed to wrap his hand in hers. 

“Leo came to see me today.” 

“Is he ok? Jenny said he was doing very well with his sobriety.” 

“He’s fine. He’s chasing a new kind of high now.” 

Confused, Abbey stops rubbing his hand. “What do you mean?” 

Jed looks off in the distance, as stars glisten in the sky, “Politics.”

Abbey tries to see what he sees, “What about politics?”

She braces herself when she sees Jed straighten up, but refuses to look her in the eye. Jed slowly, but confidently starts again, “He wants to mount a campaign for president.” 

Abbey tenses at this statement. “Not his?” 

“No.” 

She wraps her sweater tighter around her, feeling a quick burst of chills. “Yours.” (It’s a statement, not a question.) 

Immediately launching into debate mode, Jed proffers, “Bartlet for America. It’s just an idea. Hoynes basically has the nomination locked up, but I can get in there, give a few speeches. Keep him honest. And then come back here, teach, be with you and the girls. It’ll be just like it always was.” 

Except it won’t. She knows it’ll never be the same. At the very least, he’s probably looking at a cabinet position or some other high-ranking national level job. And what if he wins? President. And she would be the First Lady, not of New Hampshire, but of the United States. It’s everything she’s never wanted. And everything he’s secretly dreamed. Jed’s a natural leader, and an orator. He truly cares about others, can passionately debate his point for hours, and knows everything about everything. He’d be a great president. But what about them? What about her? Their lives would be scrutinized. Their girls. Everything they’ve said, and done, and worn. Her career. Her personality. Sure she’s a good public speaker, reasonably personable, and has a pedigree to die for. But she’s a fierce feminist, and won’t be handled—she says what’s on her mind and that’s just how it is. She likes her short skirts and her high heels, and she doesn't like the thought of other people judging her—disliking her status as an intellectual, a Doctor, a surgeon. Her practice is here. Her life is here. Her family is here. And what about their marriage? Jed barely has time for her and the girls as it is. 

“Abbey?” Jed gently nudges her, and she realizes that she’s been quiet for a while. Too long a while for Jed’s liking. 

“What about your health?” 

“I’m fine, Abbey. You know I’m in remission. I’ll be out of the race before my body even realizes any stress increases.” 

Unconvinced, Abbey stares at him, “But what if you’re not?” 

Jed looks away. 

Abbey continues, “Did you tell Leo?” 

Jed gets up and pulls out a pack of cigarettes, lighting one up. 

Abbey pushes him, “He needs to know.”

Hitting the railing, Jed turns “Damnit, Abbey. He doesn't. It’s not relevant.” 

Now mad herself, Abbey gets up and starts pacing, “It absolutely is relevant. He needs to know, Jed. Everyone will know. We won’t have a minute of privacy. Nothing we’ve ever done or said or even thought will be private anymore.” 

Firing back, Jed refuses to back down, “Is that what this is about? Yourself being in the spotlight? You’re already there, Abbey.” 

“Not like this. And this isn’t about me. This is about running for the highest office in this country and the demands that places on you. And on all of us.” 

Stubbing out his cigarette, Jed asserts, “I won’t do this without you. Tell me no, and it will never be mentioned again.” 

Abbey stares at her folded hands, and quietly says, “You want to do it.” 

Barely a whisper, Jed replies, “Yes.” 

Bracing herself, Abbey sits back in the porch swing, “We’re always supported each other. There’s still a lot to discuss. The girls need to know. We need to talk through some things—a campaign, our family, our current jobs, your MS. Yes, jackass. That’s still a factor. But you’re a good man, Jed Bartlet. The best. I wouldn’t have married you otherwise. And you’d be a great president.” 

Sitting beside her, Jed turns and starts to rub her shoulders, “And you’d be a great first lady.” 

She shakes her head ‘no.’ 

Jed continues, “I’m serious. Your smart, and funny, and passionate, and you really care, Abbey. About people. And healthcare. And women’s rights. Plus you’d be the sexiest first lady we’re ever seen.” 

Abbey swats at his hand as it moves down her back toward her rear. 

“I’m serious, hot pants.” Finding a knot in her neck, he rubs it deeply. She “mmms” incoherently. 

Jed kisses the spot on her neck where the knot was. Bringing his head back up, he continues his ministrations and stares off into the twinkling night sky. “Bartlet for America.”

Head down, hair falling around her face, Abbey moves her head with his hands. Quietly she whispers, “Bartlet for America,” as a single tear falls down her cheek and lands on her hand.


End file.
